Going Away
by lightningsphere
Summary: The real world isn't appealing anymore.


"When're you going back?" The hard blue tendrils of Vriska's voice seeped into Terezi's vision, interrupting the exploding sunset before them. The tendrils, tinted with a questioning shade of yellow, smelled sweet with hope. But they tasted bitter.

Terezi tore her attention from the red-orange sky, looking to Vriska instead. Vriska sat, back hunched and shoulders squared. Blades of grass tasting of cool mint swayed in the breeze and spiraled around her uneven form, almost threatening to consume her. If this weren't the one safe area of the game, Terezi would have already been on her feet, sword poised and ready to strike.

Vriska's gray skin twitched with a rotten impatience. Beneath the warm gray, Vriska's icy blood ran down her spine in neat rivulets. The blood flowed with a foggy purpose as Vriska's heart screamed at her lungs and pounded at her rib cage. Salt pricked Terezi's tongue. Clear droplets of sweat dotted Vriska's palms, barely visible under her licorice gloves.

Terezi shook her head, sending droplets of ashy disbelief flying into the grass. It'd been a while since she'd last played the game. She forgot how intense the already-intense blind vision combined with the collectible synesthesia trait was, and how easy it was to just sit in the safe-zone field, absorbing.

Vriska cleared her throat. The sound sent dull knives jabbing into Terezi's shoulders, and dark red clouded her vision. It took a few seconds for the red to drip away and for the knives to stop their jabbing. When they did, Terezi was ready to answer Vriska's question.

"When am I going back?" Teal smoke wafted from Terezi's parted lips, filling the air with an earthy smell. Terezi watched it fade into the sunset. She lifted a hand up to her head, where her earpiece lay hidden beneath a sea of thick, coal-black hair. Her fingers collided with the metal. Golden sparks flitted across her eyelids. She ran her fingers along the earpiece, tracing the empty grooves and touching the red button in the center.

A press of that button, and Terezi would be home. She considered that for a minute: home.

Weariness rushed over her, and her body sagged.

Home meant a cold black wall obscuring her vision every second of every day. Home meant Karkat desperately trying to win her back even though she had broken up with him two years ago. Home meant Dave always floating around, trying to charm her without being charming. Home meant Nepeta's new brain damage—her blank, out-of-place expressions, her broken movements, and her inability to speak. Home meant the never-ending cycle of exhaustion, annoyance, and boredom.

Vriska and the game were none of those things.

"Not for a while, I don't think." Flames licked at Terezi's cheeks, born from the sourness of her words.

"How long is 'a while'?"

"As long as I want."

Vriska tugged at the sleeves of her jacket. "You gotta be careful," she said. The tendrils of her voice wrapped themselves around Terezi's throat. "You can't stay here too long."

"Says who?" The smoke came out in weak, faint puffs.

Vriska didn't notice. She didn't have the synesthesia trait. "Says just about everybody. You can't eat here—"

"Yes you can," Terezi interjected, earning herself a forest green glare that tasted like stale bread from Vriska.

"The food does nothing for your real body. You know that. You can't eat, you can't drink, you can't take a piss, nothing. You get admitted to the hospital so they can keep you alive. And when you come out, whenever that is, the police take the game away." Vriska spoke all in one breath. The tendrils were growing to copious amounts, and then she breathed in deep. Just like that, they vanished, sucked back into her throat.

Terezi scrunched up her nose. She knew that. It didn't make her want to go home.

"I don't care," she said. "I'm staying here. For a long time."

Vriska opened her mouth, and then shut it without a word. She shrugged, flakes of burnt care coated with a cool indifference shuddering down. "OK. Whatever."

Terezi glanced at the setting sun. It was falling rapidly, sinking lower and lower behind the rugged mountains. The fireworks were weaker, and they didn't taste half as delightful. Terezi could hear the moon howling in the distance. Stars were hanging in the violet-blue sky. They trembled and whispered among themselves.

Vriska wasn't listening. She was thinking, and at last she spoke again. "We better go find you a room at an inn somewhere, then," she said. "You don't want to be out and about on a full moon. The damn werelings, y'know."

"I know," Terezi replied, pushing herself off the reliable ground. She wiped her hands on her legs, brushing away any protective pieces of grass and dirt.

"I'm going once we do." Vriska's voice wavered, and her tendrils came out flat.

"I know."

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"I know."

Vriska hesitated. Terezi felt the tendrils bunching up, ready to leap from Vriska's throat. But Vriska swallowed, and a wave of spit washed them away. Vriska stood, knees crackling, and she stretched. She took one last look at the drowning sun and said, "Let's go."


End file.
